At around 8 p.m. Christmas Day, I start looking forward to December 26.
Please realize, I love hosting these big holiday get-togethers and, as strange as we all are, we're a fun bunch to be around. The current game of choice is called The Game of Things where you are given a category (say, "Things you might say during a lull in the conversation") and everyone's written answer is read out loud. You then have to guess who said which "thing." Needless to say, the Linguini version defies my attempts to keep the answers on high ground. Our gaming always lasts into the wee hours, this after an already hectic day. I truly love every minute of it.
But, whereas Christmas Day has required a month of logistical planning to produced a carefully-choreographed balance of feast, activity and sentimentality, the day after is a clean slate defying any attempts at scheduling or formality.
Only Dirtman had to drag himself out to work and I wasn't exactly pressed, dressed and faithfully waving goodbye to him from the front door. As I recall, having poured myself a second cup of coffee, I had sunk back into bed with TCM on low and only woke up briefly when he kissed me goodbye and assuaged my guilt by "ordering" me to stay in bed today and rest.
Well, if you insist...
Heating up my third cup of coffee made me the most active person remaining in the house, since the Heirs hadn't yet touched foot to floor. Later, while shoving a stale Christmas cookie into my mouth to go with the third cup of coffee, I noticed Heir 2, sleeping on the couch for the holidays, checking his e-mail from his lap top. He mumbled something I took to be "Good morning." I didn't bother to correct him on his assumption of the time of day and returned to bed, turning on the Food Network.
They had great recipes I have no intention of cooking today. Have another stale cookie.
Oh...and all that rich food that seemed such a good idea yesterday? Forget it. I just want a salad. There is a head of romaine lettuce and a bag of scallions in the crisper that I could cut up.
Instead I stand at the refrigerator, eat a cold leftover shrimp and take a spoonful of the leftover tiramasu that didn't set properly. I grab another stale cookie and go back to bed.
I am reminded by Zsa Zsa that I have dogs and that they require my opening the door for them to relieve themselves. Her nudge and stare make me feel guilty and I feel worse when I notice the water bowl is empty. Even Whiskers the cat is looking at me like I'm scum.
I let the dogs out, fill the water dish, and let them all back in.
It's nap time for the dogs. And me. I've worked hard.
There are stirrings in the kitchen. The Heirs have woken up hungry. I told them about the salad they could make, but they come in munching on the last of the cookies that were left out.
Heir 2 mentions setting up the Blu-Ray player John Boy brought us yesterday. Then he crawls back onto the couch. Heir 1 heads to his bedroom with leftover bacon-wrapped scallops and a glass of milk. He points out that the scallops were wrapped with water chestnuts and that the water chestnuts were the only vegetable we've had in two days. I reminded him that the tortilla chips had corn in them and the queso dip had tomatoes. I am a good mother.
Okay. Maybe I'll make up that salad for everyone.
After a nap.